


What to Remember

by PoisonousRationality



Category: Aldnoah.Zero (Anime)
Genre: M/M, OrangeBat, Panic Attacks, Post-Canon, eventually, inasure - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-04-18 13:14:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4707239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoisonousRationality/pseuds/PoisonousRationality
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's always something out there that affects someone, no matter who, but concrete walls and lack of sleep affect everyone. It didn't take long for Slaine to realize that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Starting Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's always something out there that affects someone, no matter who, but concrete walls and lack of sleep affect everybody. It didn't take long for Slaine to realize that.

_“I hope you remember…”_

Raw, concrete walls surrounded the prison entirely, he concluded. It hadn’t taken much to come to that conclusion. Despite the glass walls that made up every side of the room used for their warped version of a conjugal visit, everything appeared to be made of the gray material. As of yet, he had failed to locate any sort of window, metaphorical or literal, to the outside world to even so much as clue him in to when or where he was. It made sense to him, after all, this place was made to be a secret from all but a choice few.

Because of the, in his opinion, terribly cruel architectural design, no light found its way to him. With no light came no way of telling what time of day it was or even how many days had passed. For all he knew, thanks to the lack of information from those who guarded him, he might have been there for only a month or perhaps a year. A year seemed much more probable in his mind, considering the amount of times he slept. However, with so little to do , he could unwillingly admit he slept much more than he desired. Rather, how much he laid in bed trying to end the days sooner.

Even now, sleep continued to elude him. He blamed the ugly, fluorescent lighting from outside his cell. It was only on half the time, sometimes leaving him wide awake in darkness or restlessly tired in the light. The guards needed not waste their time some days, it seemed. 

He turned to lie on his back, hand thrown over his forehead i effort to block some of the light. He stared at the ceiling, observing the notches and chips missing. Either this fortress was built long ago and abandoned or it was built with little effort or concern for those inside. Again, it made sense, the only permanent resident of this place did not deserve the comfort of knowing his ceiling would not cave in.

The stale stench of sitting food surely did not help him to relax. After two bites of what he was shocked could pass as food fit for consumption, even for someone in his position, uncomfortable twists in his stomach had him throw the universal utensil aside and retreat to his bed. With any luck, it would be removed by the time he could finally keep his teal eyes shut.

Attention intentionally redirected to how his over-sized shirt’s collar had found itself resting at his throat, he absently reached for the pendant that hung from his neck. Thumb running across the indentations and ridges, he thought of the significance behind it. Who, when he was separated from it, had come to wear it? Princess, no, Empress Asseylum, surely. He had given it straight to her after all. However, turning it in my hand, he was unsure now if she had kept it to herself or not. 

Echoing footsteps shook him from his brooding. He tugged his shirt down into place and slid the pendent underneath it. Turning on his side, he silenced himself as much as possible, trying to to slow his breathing. Perhaps it would work again today. Sometimes, when he would fake being asleep, the guards would pass without attempting to provoke him. Additionally, if his hearing hadn’t yet failed him as well, his particular guard was not one he cared to converse with.

“Get up, your visitor’s here.” Alas, luck was not on his side. 

Before he could sit up, the guard had already made his way inside. He kicked the tray of cold food out of his way, not caring that some spilled on the prisoner’s foot as it went by, and roughly pulled his hands into handcuffs before shoving him out of the cell. This guard was particularly forceful on a regular basis, but the current meeting came without the usual coarse remarks and harsh words that he had become so used to .

He was led to the glass visiting room. From what he picked up from conversations he was not involved in many years ago, Earth prisons frequently had rooms designed for privacy between the inmate and their guest. However, the glass cage seemed anything but private.

It was not long before he was pushed into the room, handcuffs removed, and locked inside to await his visitor. He rubbed his wrists. They felt so much weaker than they had years ago, aching and bruising easily. Not willing to give the guard a show of how he’d successfully hurt him, he took a seat at the table in the center of the room. On it sat a particularly fancy chess set, given the circumstances. His eyes traveled from the tabletop to the chair opposite from him.

He didn’t have to look to know who would be sitting before him. The Earth solider that defeated him and ended the war, Inaho Kaizuka. Warfare prodigy and the hero to take down the leader of the Interplanetary War. Expressionless and calm, like always, even with only one good eye left. Of course, that near-fatal wound was his fault.

“Slaine Troyard. You seem to be doing well.” Inaho remarked, taking in the other’s appearance as if he hadn’t been in the very same position less than a week ago.

“No thanks to you.” It was a lie, but he had to save at least a sliver of his pride. He wouldn’t let Inaho take everything.

Inaho regarded him with interest. “Have you been eating like I told you?”

“No.” Slaine said bluntly. It was an obvious answer to an obvious question. He knew more than well that Inaho had access to that information and was only trying to, badly, make conversation and be civil.

“Is there something wrong with it? I was told it meets as nutritional requirements for your needs.” When he got o answer, Inaho let out a sigh, more emotion coloring his face now. “I don’t know why you keep refusing. It may not be preferred but it will keep you alive.”

“Exactly the problem.” Somehow he felt he was revealing too much. Maybe the fluorescent lighting had begun to muddle his brain after all. “I don’t know why you bother.” Ah, yes, turning the tables.

“Has it ever occurred to you that I don’t want you to suffer as much as you do?”

Slaine had no immediate response, instead looking mildly offended. “Has it ever occurred to you that putting me out of my misery will end that suffering?”

“Seylum told me-”

“I know. I’m not a charity case, Kaizuka.” Slaine ground out the name, giving it a forced inflection. “No one thinks I’m alive now, why not make them right? It’d be less hassle for everyone if I just died. Although, I wouldn’t mind keeping the fools that guard me away from any sort of relaxation for a while longer.” He could see the frustration reflected in Inaho’s eyes and it pleased him. Inaho was not one to show emotion, making him a hard book to read, but he was learning.

“I will not allow you to end your life.”

“Why? Just because she told you to? You don’t care so don’t pretend that you do.” Slaine spat. These conversations were tiring to him. Each visit, each conversation, felt too similar to the last.

Inaho took a breath and closed his eye for a moment. He took the chance to examine the boy in front of him. Thin, though considerably thinner than when they had first fought, with ash-blonde hair that fell in front of burning eyes. It would need a trim soon, perhaps he would be allowed to cut it himself. Last, he saw the thin chain that hung around the other’s neck. “I see they gave you your pendent back like I told them.”

Slaine’s hands gingerly touched the chain, as if to make sure he hadn’t hallucinated getting it back. His expression went from anger to sadness to pure misery. “She… Is she safe now?”

“I’m not allowed to tell you much of anything about the outside world, you know that already.”

Slaine’s shoulders sagged, the little bit of hope he had had gone and the fight he had come into the room with left with it. “Right.” If anything, he just appeared exhausted. How easily he fell back into his depression concerned Inaho. 

“However, I can at least tell you she is alive. She is okay.”

All signs of exhaustion left Slaine, if only for a short time, when he heard. Eyes wide with the surprise of being told and lips curling upward in a relief-filled smile, the first Inaho had seen from him. It was small, but it was a start and it captured his attention.

“Thank you.”

The sincere expression of gratitude caught Inaho off guard. “What for?”

Slaine kept his eyes anywhere but Inaho, but the way his mouth twisted implied he thought the question was silly. “For the information. And the pendent.” He said, abashed.

Inaho’s gaze softened a bit. He never thought he’d hear those words from who was once his greatest enemy of the war. The gift had been useful after all. “It is important to you.” 

“It is.”

“Then you should have it back.” Slaine cast Inaho a look that asked if he was really hearing what came out of his own mouth. “The only reason they took it in the first place was so I didn’t choke myself with it.” Again, he thought. “What makes you think I won’t do it now?”

“I didn't believe you would risk something you valued so highly.”

Slaine visibly cringed. He had a point and that point was sharper than ever. Regret seeped into his skin. “You shouldn’t put so much trust in me.”

Inaho titled his head. “No? Should I take it back then?”

Slaine jerked back at the slightest move of Inaho’s hand, his own hands clutching his treasure and eyes frantic. “No!”

Inaho immediately retracted, not meaning to startle him. “The I trust you not to hurt yourself with it. If you do, I’m sorry to say you’ll never see it again whether you succeed or not.”

There is was, the underlying threat Slaine was searching for. He sunk back in his seat.

Inaho stood up, trying not to look at the distant and hurt expression that he was sure Slaine did not mean to show. Even so, he’d come to understand certain looks the boy had. This one in particular, heavy eyes glued to the floor and body limp, meant there would be no more talking today. “I’ll be back again soon. Try to eat at least some of your meals, Bat. If there is something you would rather have I can try to arrange it.”

After the silence of Slaine thinking, he said, “I have heard chocolate is very popular among the Terrans.”  
Without another word, Inaho nodded and left the cell. Slaine was pulled out, slapped into handcuffs, and dragged back to his cell. The hands clamped on his shoulders made him uneasy. They were too close to his neck and he knew if anything happened he would be unable to stop it. With a rough shove, one he was sure would leave a small bruise, the door was closed and locked behind him.

“You’re lucky Kaizuka favors you so much. No one else is here to protect you.” The guard left with his threat hanging in the air.

Back again to concrete walls and what was left on the ground from his last meal. Slaine sat on his bed, running through everything that had just happened. He looked at his hands, calloused and dotted with small scars. “Am I?”


	2. Backtracking

_“... remember that we…”_

It seemed that Inaho Kaizuka was better at keeping his word, or at the very least better at remembering his words, as Slaine once thought. His next few meals, which were still left somewhat untouched, had been accompanied by sweet rectangles in varying colors. The first day, he was wary. While he had heard of chocolate he had never had any as a child and could only assume that the brown brick on his tray was what he had asked for. 

Taking off a small chip from the corner, he smelled it. The scent was sweet like that floated off of the rare dessert dishes he’d seen counts receive. Next, he placed the piece on his tongue before being satisfied with the lack of burning enough to close his mouth and let the chip sit. The taste was heavenly, nothing like the sweet jam sandwiches he’d make with his father so long ago. No, they couldn’t be compared so easily. He broke off a greater piece and popped it in his mouth.

Slaine was alarmed when the chocolate began to melt in his hands and on his tongue. Salivating mouth forced to stay closed from the chocolate he’d just stuffed in, he dropped the bar onto his tray, right into his spoon-sized serving of syrup-soaked corn with a muffled string of curses. He salvaged what he could, and pushed the tray away. He was more than content with the little bit of squishy chocolate he had left. “Just my luck.” He grumbled.

He learned quickly that holding the pieces too long caused them to melt and was more careful from then on. The next meal brought him chocolate in white, which he decided he liked better as it was smoother and creamier than the other. Not quite as sweet, but at the same time even sweeter. It was a paradox he didn’t care to question. Having the treat prompted him to nibble at the rest of the food given to him. The chocolate was better, no doubt, but he made an effort in return for it.

The third choice he was given, a bar in a much darker brown than the first, was received with much less enthusiasm. The unexpected bitter taste left him in a panic, thinking the taste came from some sort of poison. Immediately the large piece he had bitten off was spat back onto his tray and took his appetite with it.

Slaine scraped his fingernails against his tongue, desperate to remove any remaining poison from his mouth. When his hand slipped too far back he hacked viciously, stuck somewhere between coughing and retching. His face grew hot with fear as he felt he might cough out his lungs. He kicked the tray away and fell against the side of his bed heavily as he caught his breath. His tongue stung, tasting like iron, and his chest ached. Each rise and fall hurt, and the speed at which it was doing so made it all the more worse as he fought to get air back into his body. Breathing so rapidly caused a numb tingle to crawl up from his fingertips and up to his wrists. He thought he would die.

His next two meals were left completely untouched.

During Inaho’s next visit, Slaine was seething, more than ready for his words to bite right into his failed assassin. His eyes bore into Inaho’s skull when he stalked toward the table. “You tried to kill me.”

The accusation caused Inaho to raise his brows. The hostility in Slaine’s eyes was worrisome. “Well, hello to you, too. Care to elaborate?”

“The last chocolate, the black one, tasted terrible. You poisoned it, didn’t you?” Deeper, he wondered why he cared. It was either rot in his cell or die early. Frankly, he wondered if he should have eaten more of it.

“Ah, I suppose I should have explained to you before I left. Dark chocolate has higher levels of cocoa than milk or white, giving it a bitter taste. It is not as commonly liked as milk chocolate, but it isn’t poisonous.” Inaho explained. Like with war, he seemed to be a chocolate expert as well. “I heard that you have stopped eating again.”

“See how hungry you feel after thinking you’ve just been poisoned.” Slaine said coldly. His cheeks showed the slightly hue of pink.

Inaho looked downcast. One step forward meant two steps back with him. “I apologize. I can promise you it was not poisoned and none of your other food will be either. Did you enjoy the other two chocolates at least, Slaine?”

Slaine’s face was flushed, turning pink to red. Whether from the embarrassment at his unneeded outburst, and equally unneeded bout of panic before, or the sudden use of his first name, he didn’t know. Though it wasn’t the first time Inaho had addressed him with it, but always managed to shake him. It made him feel uncomfortable, vulnerable, but he never stopped him. Something about the feeling being new to him, he had decided. It was enough to push the conversation away from his mistake.

“Did you not like any of them?” Inaho asked.

The existence of milk and white chocolate baffled Slaine. White is white, milk is white, which bar was which? “I preferred the white bar best.” 

“White chocolate is also not as commonly liked as milk chocolate is. Personally, I prefer dark.”

Slaine was unsurprised someone like Inaho would like the one he hated. He was more surprised that their conversation had no easily fallen into something as simple sweets. “What do you want now?”

“Are you suggesting you owe me? You would be incorrect if that is the case.” Inaho said. He had no intention of making the other repay him.

“It’s proper etiquette to repay someone when they do something for you, at least on Vers. What do you want?” Slaine repeated. He could already tell this game would not end quickly.

“Really, you don’t owe me for a few bars of chocolate.” Inaho assured.

Slaine grit his teeth in his irritation. His blunt fingernails rapped against the table as he demanded his answer. “Then why did you bother if you don’t want something in return? I am not stupid, Kaizuka, I have had my fair share of experiences. Enough to know that no one does anything without a motive. Someone like you, even, only does what will benefit you in the end.”

“You’re right in some ways.” Inaho admitted. There was no need to lie about it. “It did benefit me. I wanted to make you happy. I said before that I don’t want to see you suffer.”

Slaine huffed. He found it hard to believe and even harder to hear. “What?” Scowling, he ground out, “Why the hell do you want me to be happy? Not only have I killed people but I’ve shot your comrades. I shot you!”

“I shot you, too.” Came the interjection.

“So? I led a war! My point is, I am not deserving of your kindness, with or without a motive behind it. Why do you not hate me?” He shouted. Slaine’s hands slammed down on the table, causing the unused chess pieces to teeter and roll onto the ground. Breathing irregular and knuckles turning pale from curling his fingers into tight fists, one of the questions that had festered in his head had come loose. Getting no response from the other, he curled on his chair. His arms wrapped around his legs as he buried his face into them. “Please, please, just hate me, it makes everything so much easier.” Slaine sobbed into his knees.

Inaho motioned for the guards waiting outside to turn their backs, which they did with only minor resistance. He left his chair to crouch beside the crying boy. He was glad, for his sake, that the walls contained most of the noise of their conversation and kept them fairly private. It was fair to guess Slaine did not know that. Inaho did not know what to do to console him. It left his awkward, pitying, and silent as the other filled the room with muffled sobs.

“Just hate me like everyone else does.” It was hardly audible behind Slaine’s wrapped limbs.

Despite his discomfort at the situation, Inaho slowly moved hand to Slaine’s knee. Watery, unfocused eyes shot to it and then to Inaho. “Not everyone hates you.” Inaho rubbed small circles with his thumb as Slaine buried his face once more. “I told you already that I didn’t hate you and that hasn’t changed. War is war, we were enemies, it was only natural for us to shoot at each other and our comrades. I can’t say I forgive you, but I do not blame you either.”

A snort broke the quiet that followed. Reddened eyes peeked over the tops of his knees to look at Inaho’s hand. Slaine arms hugged tighter. “You’re an idiot, Orange.” The breaths he sucked through his teeth stung like cold air against his lips.

Inaho, content that Slaine had stopped his blubbering, smiled slightly. “You’re the stupid one here, Bat.” He followed Slaine’s stare to his hand that was still rubbing against the thin fabric. He withdrew his hand. “Oh, sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”

Slaine gently shook his head. “No, it’s fine. Do what you want.”

Inaho stood up and circled back to his chair but did not yet sit down. Meanwhile, Slaine wiped his tears with his arm, leaving his cheeks red. “If you want, I can lead you back to your room now. I understand if you want to leave.” 

Anyone would be better than the guards, Slaine thought, even Inaho. “It’s no room; It’s a jail cell.” He stood up and waited for Inaho to make his way to the door before following behind. His posture did nothing for him in the way of making him appear as if he had not just come close to pouring his heart out.

The guards insisted on taking the prisoner themselves, or at least let them handcuff him and accompany them to make sure nothing happened to Inaho, but Inaho quickly dismissed them.

“He is in no state to attack me right now.”

The handcuffs were passed to Inaho’s hands and secured around Slaine’s wrists. He took note of how differently Inaho had put them on compared to the guards. It was more gentle. Slaine shot him a glare with no bite behind it. “I’m not that fragile.” It was true, but it meant nothing. If anything, the pitiful tone made him sound weaker than he was already. 

The rest of the walk back was wordless, which Slaine appreciated. More words couldn’t leave his tongue if he’d tried. He’d already made a fool of himself enough today. While in his thoughts he did not notice Inaho watching him from his peripheral, making sure he did not fall behind. Once at his cell, he stepped inside and crawled into bed without a word to the dark-haired boy. 

Inaho hesitated for a good minute before leaving Slaine to himself. Having rarely ever been to the cell himself, he took note of the condition with a frown. It worried him, but there was nothing else he could do but let him have his privacy.

Ash hair disappeared underneath thin sheets as Slaine curled underneath them. He begged for sleep to overtake him before his thoughts turned dark. The chain around his neck felt especially heavy that night.


	3. Sweets are Nightmare Material

_“... we must…”_

The methodical clicking of fingers on plastic keys filled the cool night air. Bright, blinding light reflected against a sleep-deprived face with red eyes that shot from side to side as the page before them was scanned. Eyelids heavy, drooping more with each minute passed, and screen illuminating the otherwise dark room as the only source of light. Inaho sighed for what seemed to him like the tenth time in the last hour. He closed the page, finding nothing useful, and his previous search history flashed at him mockingly.

“Symptoms of depression,” “Symptoms of PTSD,” “PTSD in teenagers,” “Allergens in dark chocolate,” “How to identify self-inflicted wounds.” “How to comfort.” Few of dozens of attempts left by Inaho’s efforts.

Next, he typed in “How to treat depression” and returned to searching for any relevant information. “‘Getting into routines and setting goals’.” He read aloud. “Exercise, sleep, and eating well seem to appear consistently.” The points read off were jotted down in a small notepad covered in scribbled notes, diagrams, statistics, and contact information. Anything even remotely applicable.

From his hours spent gathering data, Inaho came across some things that worried him. He concluded that Slaine should not be left alone nearly as much as he had. In the time spans between meetings, anything could happen while in an unhealthy mental state. On top of that, the disorders he considered were accompanied by potential damage to the brain and body. The hippocampus, the prefrontal cortex, the anterior cingulate, all connected to functions those who suffer have seen a decline in performance with, such as memory. As the brain retains plasticity, the earlier the treatment the better. Inaho feared he was far past early enough.

A soft knock at the door pried Inaho’s attention away from his screen. It took a moment for his vision to adjust, going from complete blackness to dull grays and blues creating the shapes that were in his bedroom. Just behind the door peeked a head familiar even in the dark. Long hair, barely darker than his own, framing an equally weary female face. 

“Nao? Why are you still up?” She yawned as she tiredly leaned against the door frame. “It’s almost two in the morning.”

“Sorry, I’m working. Did I wake you, Yuki?”

Yuki shook her head. “No, I was just about to go to bed myself. What are you working on?” She said through another yawn, drawing out the last few sounds. She frowned. “It’s about Slaine Troyard, isn’t it?”

Inaho chose to ignore the last part. “You should probably go do that then. I can’t guarantee I’ll be awake in time if you sleep through your alarm this time.” He scrolled down further. His pen tapped slowly as he thought. “Yuki, do you have any experience with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder? I figured I should ask, as you have been in the military longer than I have.”

Yuki closed the door and crouched beside Inaho. She looked over the notes spread across his desk and in his notepad. Looking at the page he had left up, she sighed. “‘You think he might have PTSD? I wouldn’t doubt it, among other mental things.”

“He shows signs of it. Refusing meals, anxiety, and lack of sleep to name a few. It’s either that or depression. I do not know how to stop it.” Inaho admitted, at a loss.

The look of failure on Inaho’s face broke Yuki’s heart. He rarely became disheartened, and when he did it never showed. The issue was obviously eating at him from the inside. Yuki did not want to see him go through that. “Nao, this isn’t worth it. It isn’t worth risking your health. Look at yourself! You’re wringing yourself dry focusing so much on some asshole war prisoner who should have died a year ago! He tried to kill you!”

Inaho chuckled, which did not sit well with Yuki. “He yelled at me for the same thing the other day. We were in a war, Yuki, I tried to kill him, too. Now it’s over. I can see it in his eyes, he regrets it.” Inaho trailed off for a moment. “This is worth it. Seylum told me to save him, and that’s what I’m going to do.”

Yuki hung her head. There was never any use in trying to stop him when he set his mind on something. No way to stop him from obsessing over the health and safety of a murderer. “Can I help, Nao? I don’t want you spreading yourself too thin with this.”

“Is there anything I can do to stop it?”

“These sort of things don’t go away with some medicine and a hot bath. It’s a lot more complicated than that. It takes a lot of time and effort and in the end it might never go away. Are you sure about this?”

Inaho nodded, heart set and looking nothing but determined. At this time, he wanted nothing more than to truly help Slaine. 

“You little saint. You’re really worried, aren’t you? Alright, let’s see what we can do to help your patient, Doctor Kaizuka.”

“Thank you, Yuki.”

Miles away, the patient at hand was caught in a fitful sleep. Legs wrapped in sheets and fingers digging into palms. Slaine slammed and tossed his body from one side to the other in his nightmare. Eyes shut tight, hot and wet with tears, and teeth grinding so hard he could keep the ache in his jaw even while stuck in a dream. Hurt heart beat wildly as adrenaline coursed through his veins.

Slaine whimpered in his sleep. Hands flew to his neck, clawing and scratching in desperation to remove the invisible force constricting him. Nothing came between his nails and the soft skin of his throat, leaving white lines that would soon turn red. The chain caught on his hand and was held taut as Slaine tried to rip it off. “No, no, no, stop!” He cried. His feet kicked at the nonexistent assailant that threatened him. “Please!”

His pleas turned into a broken scream, held back by choked sobs. Weeping, choking, howling, gasping for breath, all at once. Hands now on his head, he curled into himself. “Asseylum… I’m sorry…” His throat burned, his limbs ached, his head pounded, his heart throbbed. Still caught in a nightmare, Slaine groaned as his dream body experienced the same pain his real one did. “I’m sorry…” The images that played in his head continued to haunt him even after his body stilled.

Blood, blood, and more blood. He’d seen so much blood in his lifetime. In the beginning he never thought it would taint his hands like it had. He never once guessed he would be dragged down into horrid terrors every time he closed his eyes. Every blink a flash of fire, every rest a front row seat to his own misdeeds. Gunshots, wails of pain, splatters of red across steel.

Tears dripped from Slaine’s cheeks onto the bed and did not stop flowing with every hiccup and every intake of air. Repeating his regretful apology over and over to an empty room. 

He would later wake up alone, pain rippling through his limbs, blood dried on his neck, and confusion painting his face.

Inaho’s next visit came shortly after Slaine awoke. His face remained red and puffy from crying and his throat too sore to protest the visit. He all but crawled alongside the guards who led him into his secondary, glass cell. 

Inaho came more prepared than normal, equipped with knowledge and Yuki’s advice, he was ready to start Slaine’s on road to recovery. In his notepad he had lists of symptoms, lists of temporary treatment ideas, lists of resources in case the damage appears too far gone. A whole third of the pad filled. He had even brought something new for Slaine to try and boost his spirits, courtesy of Yuki herself at four in the morning.

Slaine cringed when he saw Inaho’s face. The eyepatch covering his handiwork knotted his stomach as he recalled parts of his nightmare. Desperate to show no more weakness, he swallowed his discomfort and took his usual seat as best he could. The damage still shone clear in his face to Inaho, as well as the cherry-red scratches crisscrossing his throat.

“What happened to your neck?” Inaho asked.

Slaine bit his tongue. He hadn’t known the marks were visible and was in no way ready to tell Inaho the story of his night. “Nothing.”

Inaho adopted a worried look. The lie couldn’t have been more obvious. He left his seat and neared Slaine, internally regretting it when he saw Slaine flinch. He crouched down, something he had apparently done right before, according to the notes. “May I see?” Ask permission, that was key.

“Why?” Slaine rasped.

“I won’t hurt you, I promise. I just want to have a look.” Inaho assured. He had to know why Slaine’s neck was hurt to the point he could barely speak to him. 

‘There’s nothing for you to see!” Slaine snapped. Not the best choice in hindsight, as his throat immediately stung after it. His lips were curled above his teeth in an attempt at intimidation. He did not want to be touched.

Inaho looked him straight in the eye, unwavering. “I promise I won’t hurt you. I want to help. Please, Slaine.”

Slaine gulped. He felt taken aback by Inaho’s eagerness to act. “Fine. But don’t touch.” He warily pulled his collar down to expose his scratches. The unflinching look in Inaho’s eyes was hard to say no to. He could feel his heart beating heavy in his chest.

Inaho took care to move slowly and carefully. Grateful at the little ground he made, he began to observe the scratches that all but covered Slaine’s throat. Long, vertical, and uneven. Each with a different length and angle. Looking closer he noticed that while the lines were raised and red, the skin looked like it had been rubbed with sandpaper rather than something sharp. Very little had gone deep enough to bleed, and the ones that had were not dangerous. Flakes were hanging off in odd spots, there were no clear cut lines and no hesitation marks, as he had learned about that morning. He was relieved knowing Slaine had not gone at himself with anything sharp. The most logical conclusion he could think of was the possibility of Slaine’s own fingernails. He raised his hand toward him. “May I?”

Slaine looked and felt downright uncomfortable. It was embarrassing to have a flaw looked at so closely. He shook his head. Looking was bad enough.

Inaho forced himself to respect Slaine’s decision. “You won’t tell me what caused this will you?”

A shake of the head.

As expected. “If I guess, will you tell me if I’m right?”

“I can’t tell you what I don’t know-” Slaine’s mouth snapped shut, causing vibrations of pain to travel through his teeth. He messed up, he let it slip. He cursed himself. 

Inaho looked at Slaine with pitying eyes. “I won’t push it, don’t worry. Just be careful, Slaine.”

Slaine snarled. This guy was going to give him a heart attack. He watched as Inaho reached into the bag strung across the back of his chair. He brought out a small plastic box and set it on the table.

“Feeling up to trying something new?” Inaho asked.

Slaine eyed the box warily. The walls may be plastic but all that he could see was the brown color through it. The lid was taken off to reveal several large cookies. Tan with dots of dark brown throughout. He’d never seen such a cookie.

Inaho took one for himself and slide the box across the table. “They’re called cookies. My sister made them for you.” He made a show of eating it, trying to clear any suspicions they may be poisoned. He squinted a little. They made not be poisoned, but they were still burnt.

“I know what a cookie is.” Slaine whispered. He snatched one from the box and pushed it aside. He turned the cookie around in his hand, trying to figure out what the brown chunks were. He lifted it up to his face. It smelled of sweet bread and chocolate. His stomach rumbled. Homemade cookies were something he had not seen since he was a child, and they never chocolate inside. Ignoring the prying eyes of Inaho on him, he scraped the top with his teeth for a taste.

“Careful, Yuki burnt the bottoms.”

Like the first two chocolate bars, the cookie was fantastic. He allowed himself a bite, tasting the burnt bottom like Inaho had said. Even with the charred aftertaste, the sweetness remained. He chewed it slowly, enjoying the flavor. “I didn’t know you had a sister.” He said softly. The dryness of the cookie, unlike the creamy chocolates, did nothing for his throat.

“She served in the Deucalion along with me.”

Slaine made a face as he looked down at his remaining half cookie. “So, these are poisoned, too, then?”

“No. She’s unhappy about me coming here, but she would never do something that sneaky. Besides, they had to be edible for her, too. She has a sweet tooth like you do.”

Crumbs brushed off thin hands fell to the table. With another growl from his gut, Slaine eyed the the third, the last, cookie as Inaho brought it to his mouth, stopping when there eyes met

“Did you want it?” Inaho asked. His only response from Slaine was an unending stare. He broke the cookie in half and handed it to Slaine. The break was uneven, and Inaho’s half was noticeably smaller than the one he handed Slaine. Feeling rough fingers brush his own in the exchange sent tiny shocks up them, almost making him flinch and drop the cookie. He covered himself by pulling his hand to his mouth and clearing his throat. “She’ll be glad to know you like them.”

"Thank her for me.”

Slaine wolfed down the cookie, hunger driving him. A whole cookie and a half in his belly, several days empty. Sometimes, he admitted, Inaho could be a godsend. A hand slowly reaching for his face made him jump, having been caught in his pondering.

Inaho leaned over the table, slowly yo make sure Slaine could see what he was doing and give him time to prevent it if he wished. While nervous, breath having hitched, the boy did not stop him. Inaho brushed his thumb over Slaine’s cheeks, then to his lips.

Slaine went into a state of shock. Inaho’s face was close, much too close, and he was touching his face with incredible delicacy. Body hot, heart stopped, he froze, mouth agape as Inaho pulled back.

“Crumbs.” Inaho defended simply, as if caressing another person’s face was a common practice. “Do you have a fever? Your face is red.” Came the teasing jest.

Slaine in turn scowled and shoved the last remaining bit of Inaho’s cookie in his mouth. 

A smile brightened the room as Inaho collected his things and made his way to the door. “I’ll be sure to tell her you enjoyed them. See you again, Slaine.”

Later, once alone in his cell, Slaine squirmed uncomfortably as the sensation had not yet left his lips. He lightly brought his finger to them. The feeling of his own was nothing like Inaho’s unexpectedly soft touch. He would never admit it aloud, but it was somehow a pleasurable feeling.

Inaho, outside the prison and on his way back home, found it equally as hard to forget the feeling of Slaine’s lips. “Thank you, Yuki.”  



	4. Realization

_“I hope you remember that we must live.”_

The culture behind names is flexible and varies with every mile traveled. Some communities prefer first names, some last, some full. Some groups prefer their appropriate prefixes even in informal situations, while others are content without them in both formal and informal situations. Even with one being the norm, there are always those within a community who simply do not care or purely believe in the opposite.

To Slaine, the use of last names was more common than firsts. First names implied closeness, familiarity beyond obligation, confidence that the addressee thinks the same way. First names were reserved for friends and lovers; not comrades, leaders, servants, and enemies. He had been called “Troyard” for as long as he’d been with the Vers Empire. Different tones, some pitying and some full of venom, but always just “Troyard,” “Slaine Troyard,” or “Terran” among countless slurs.

Hearing his name said with so much ease just didn’t feel right to him. He and Inaho were not friends, certainly not lovers, but instead just fallen villain and victorious hero. As with every story, the hero always won. The heroes were viewed as perfect individuals, surrounded by supporting friends and family and rarely with any flaws. But what of the villains? There is no such thing as a villain without a purpose, Slaine thought at the end of every story. Why did they never try to see things from the other side? Was the villain really the villain? Didn’t they have a reason for doing what they did?

Slaine never knew his thoughts as a child would so accurately reflect his future. Locked away in prison, alone besides the hero and his mindless pawns. He had his reasons. He’d made mistakes, but he a greater goal in mind. Although, even justified, crimes are crimes. Slaine was more than aware of that.

Hearing his name said without malice just didn’t feel right to him. He had grown up with it. Years and years of it. He had long since steeled himself to it, knowing it would happen every time he was around anyone Versian or otherwise.. The only person to speak to him without any signs of hatred was the princess, but they would never speak again. He knew it.

Hearing his name said with genuine care and concern backing it just didn’t feel right to him. He didn’t deserve it; he deserved more anger directed at him. More hate, more animosity, more of every negative emotion thrown at him. He didn’t understand why Inaho, the hero of Earth and the man he fought with regularly, would be one of the very, very few to not be cruel to him. If he wasn’t, things would be simpler. 

The way Inaho said his name felt much differently than the way Asseylum used to. When Asseylum said it, Slaine smiled with red, warm cheeks and felt happiness bloom in his chest. When Inaho said it, his whole body went warm. His chest felt tight and hair stand on end. Muscles tense in his legs and tongue dry. Listing the feelings in his head, they didn’t sound as pleasant as the words made him feel. A mix of nervous pleasure. It was new, but he wanted to hear it again. He wanted to feel it again.

It was a filthy feeling for Slaine. Perhaps he was truly going mad in his cell. Perhaps he was projecting feelings on the only human interaction he really got. He felt his feelings made him worse, more deserving of his villainous position. He couldn’t let himself taint anyone else. 

Slaine found himself looking forward to Inaho’s next visit while dreading it.

He’d done nothing close to coming to terms with himself. The next time he saw Inaho, Slaine awaited anxiously for the time to be up and for them to part ways. His mind was jumbled, he would make a mistake or let something spill in his state. Energy focused on keeping his thoughts to himself, and his eyes off of Inaho, he put little care into his actions.

Inaho caught the difference quickly. “Are you okay?”

Slaine stuttered. “Y-Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You rammed your knee into the table sitting down and almost fell out of your chair. Have you eaten? You do not appear to be sick.”

Slaine grit his teeth. Don’t act like you care, you’re only making this harder, he thought. “That eye of yours is obscuring your vision, Orange.”

Inaho brought his hand up, gingerly touching his eyelid. “There are no current issues with my eye right now, but thank you for your concern, Bat.”

“That wasn’t concern. It was an insult.”

“I am aware.”

The table shook as Slaine dropped his head onto it with a groan muffled by his arms. “Please go away.”

“If you want me to, I will.” Inaho, doing what had become consistent with his visits, moved to crouch beside Slaine. “But I’d rather help.”

Slaine felt that contracting feeling in his chest again. Again, with the overly helpful Inaho. he wondered when that facade would drop and he would go back to silent interrogations over chess rather than a drawn out charity case. “Don’t act like you care!” Slaine spat.

“I’m not acting. I wouldn’t waste my time if how I felt was false.”

How did Inaho feel, Slaine wondered. It could be taken several ways, some more opportune than others. “You waste your time visiting a dead man.”

Inaho shifted on the balls of his feet, the strain beginning to become uncomfortable. He moved to sit fully on the ground beside Slaine’s chair. His booted foot tapped the leg of the chair. “You’re not dead and I’m not wasting my time. Perhaps I worded that wrong. I should have said ‘spending’ rather than ‘wasting.’” He said, “I enjoy these visits.”

Slaine had turned his head to Inaho and quirked an eyebrow. “You enjoy consistent updates on my misery? Or just making my misery worse? I had my doubts, but I didn’t think you’d be a sadist, Kaizuka.”

Still tapping rhythmically, Inaho shook his head. “I enjoy making your stay less miserable, actually, hence the sweets and the chess.”

A hard smack to the metal table left Slaine cradling his head in his hands and Inaho jumping to him feet. “Sit back down.” Slaine hissed. “‘Stay’? You make it sound like this place is a resort I voluntarily chose to live the rest of my life in. While I may deserve it, I have no objections in that way, it doesn’t mean this is at all pleasant so don’t treat it like it is just to console me with your lying.” The ferocity behind his words was nothing new. Emotional topics did that to him. “And I told you I don’t want your pity. Why don’t you get that?”

Inaho leant against the table to better see Slaine’s fuming face with disappointment. “I am not here to play or pity you. I only intend to make things easier for you.”

“Because of the Empress?” Slaine accused.

“Because I care about your wellbeing.”

Constricting. Slaine’s heart beat fast at the words without his consent. Hearing Inaho say such things wasn’t good for him and therefore wouldn’t be good for either. “Why?” He demanded. “Why do you care so much? You, more than anyone, should want nothing short of my suffering.”

Inaho placed his hands on the table, leaving over Slaine. He had to admit he was tired of the back and forth arguments and just wanted his point to be put across. “I like you, Slaine. You are someone I wish to get to know beyond the war that binds you to your shackles of sadness.” Inaho took a breath. Much, much more, he thought. “Regardless of your past deeds. We have both done things we regret.”

Slaine felt warmth in his chest and cool tears on his cheeks. Those words, finally, struck him. Deep down, maybe less deep than he once thought, he wanted to hear them. “You won’t like what you find.” He sighed heavily.

“I don’t think that will change anything.”

“Your sister won’t like it.”

“Too late for that. You’ll grow on her.”

“You make it sound like you’re taking me home with you. Why does it sound like you’re confessing to me?”

“I might be.”

Slaine buried his face again, small coughs of laughter escaping him. What a situation he was in. Never one he predicted he’d be in. With how fast his heart hammered against his chest he wouldn’t be surprised if it stopped altogether. “Idiot, Orange. You can’t possibly like a dead prisoner of war.”

Inaho lightly placed his hand atop Slaine’s. “We can figure that out later. “ He smiled at the snort that left Slaine’s nose. “Does that mean you’ll accept?”

“You are the least romantic person I’ve ever met. The guards have more romance in them than you.”

“I don’t like the sound of that.” Inaho frowned. Worrisome possibilities flashed in his mind like a scrolling database.

Slaine, in turn, waved his hands at him. The swishing air made the teardrops on his hand feel much colder. “Relax, I meant nothing by it. Don’t get all sappy on me just yet.” Slaine did not smile, but the brightness in his eyes reflected the happiness he felt. “I accept.” The tightness in his throat loosened, still dry like his mouth but relaxed like the rest of him. Somehow, the events unfolding around him made him happy.

“You don’t mind that we are both men?” It didn’t bother Inaho, but he’d heard enough of the nasty connotations that surrounded same-sex relationships he felt the need to ask.

Slaine choked, taking a moment to regain control of himself. The question, while relevant, was unexpected yet surprisingly blunt. “Of course not. It’s not like it’ll get far enough to matter. Besides, I have no one to impress here.”

It hurt Inaho to hear Slaine’s doubts, but this was a step forward for them either way. “Darn.”

A glare was sent Inaho’s way. “Don’t sound so disappointed.” Slaine’s eyes went back to stare at the table. “Are you sure you don’t mind our history? I am a criminal, after all. Who knows if I’ll turn on you or take your other eye when you least expect it.”

“You won’t. The regret you feel for your actions is prevalent. If you have an issue I am confident you will confront me before you go to violence. I do not mind.”

“Are you genuine?” At the fierce nod Inaho gave him, Slaine let a smile grace his lips. “Alright, if you’re sure.”

Inaho curled his fingers to the palm of Slaine’s hand, using his other to guide Slaine’s gaze directly to his face. “I am. Thank you, Slaine. I can promise I will never push you from your comfort zone either.”

Slaine looked amazed, all the sincerity he had never suspected would come from Inaho continued to surprise him. He smirked despite the blush on his cheeks. “God, what a sap. Gross.” His smile softened. He in return firmly gripped Inaho's hand. “Thank you as well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahaha this chapter took a lot longer than the others.. Here you guys go, please continue to comment and let me know what you think of this whole thing! I was planning on ending it at chapter 4, but if you want more I'll make more chapters or an epilogue or something.


	5. Who Knows?

_“Luck is a very thin wire between survival and disaster…”_

Days passed differently after Inaho’s confession. They went slower, time barely finding the strength to crawl forward as Slaine once again anticipated and feared Inaho’s next visit. He wanted to see the boy again, really he did, but he was afraid of what the sudden change in relationship would entail. Would things now be expected of him? 

Despite what he’d said, Slaine was indeed afraid for anyone to find out about them. Inaho could get hurt or be barred from ever returning, leaving Slaine once again alone and forever confused as to why Inaho never returned. Slaine could invoke the wrath of the guards or, even worse, Inaho’s sister, as not only was Slaine taking up Inaho’s attention but he did not know how she would react to him being in a relationship with a male who ultimately killed many of their people. If she reacted poorly, Inaho would most likely pay the price, being easier to get to. Either way, if their secret got out, one of them were bound to get hurt.

Slaine worried that Inaho would change around him, become tainted by his feelings. He may expect things Slaine was not able or willing to give. Inaho had said that he would never push him, but Slaine couldn’t be sure in the end. He’d been betrayed before. The whole thing was a blind, daring leap for him and it made his mind jumbled.

The frayed nerves made Slaine restless, as if sleep wasn’t hard enough for him already. Pain crawled in his stomach, empty and desperate. Prison food hadn’t improved whole his life possibly had, still cold in the middle, bland, and either dry or soggy depending on the day. He was grateful the guards took the trays away after a while, most likely for hygienic requirements they could not help rather than his comfort, as by now he had skipped enough meals to create a smell he guessed would be strong enough to kill him before the starvation would.

There were still bits of corn under his bed from his dark chocolate terrors. 

Slaine traced the seam on the hem of his pants. At his ankle, the thread dangled an inch outward and left a small pocket of loose fabric. His other leg had long since passed that stage. The thread had disappeared due to him picking at it, leaving one leg a full inch longer than the other. Not that it mattered what he looked like, but he reprimanded himself for ruining the only clothes he had. Aside from the hems and a small tear in the shoulder, they weren’t too bad. He hoped he would get a new set soon.

A shower would be nice as well, he sighed before mentally slapping himself. He should be grateful he got one every other week, from what his jumbled inner clock told him, rather than wishing for more. Still, he didn’t try to force the bitter feelings down. He already looked terrible due to his health, lack of hygiene only made him look more than worthy of the upturned noses he received.

Slaine worried his state would case Inaho to react similarly, negatively to him. Why would anyone touch something lower than a filthy rat? Not that touch was what he wanted, he chided. He had been filthy before, anyway, maybe it wouldn’t sway Inaho’s mind.

Slaine rolled to stuff his face into his pillow. The one-eyed boy had somehow wormed his was so deeply into his head that thoughts and concerns of him all but filled it. Worrisome ideals, fears, and suspicions. He groaned into the severely underfilled pillow. In the last few years of his life, using all of his power to move himself higher on the hierarchy ladder, romantic endeavors has not crossed him mind. It was clear Empress Asseylum did not love him the way he loved her, so why divide his efforts for anyone else when he had a job to do. Ensuring Asseylum a happy, safe life of peace between the worlds was much more important at the time.

Now, it was just him. The war had to have ended with his arrest and supposed death, so there was no need, or way, to change the world for the one he held so dear. It was just him, alone with guards to prevent him from starting an uprising and a brown-haired prodigy with a long list of reasons to hate him. The Empress was no longer a part of his life, nor he hers, and likely never would be again. She was safe, ruling like the beautiful woman he knew she’d become, and that was all that mattered. She no longer needed Slaine.

The realization made his heart ache with loneliness and regret. He should have tried harder, done better, succeeded for her sake. In the end, they got what they wanted, but with far more bloodshed as the price.

With his devotion now useless, Slaine thought back to Inaho. His focus had shifted from one prominent person in his life to the next. With no way to reach the Empress, Inaho was all Slaine had left. There was nothing to lose anymore; He would cling to his last bit of the outside world with all he had. There was no reason to be scared when nothing mattered, so why did the feelings of apprehension not leave him? If things fell through with Inaho, Slaine would have nothing, but it wasn’t like he had anything to begin with. It was a confusing jumble that Slaine didn’t bother to unpuzzle.

Slaine toyed with the corner of his pillow. He kept his hands busy whenever he could nowadays. He would give this new proposal with Inaho a try. If it was a trick that ended in more misery, he would deal with it. He would deserve it. If it ended in more pain, he would deal with it. If he was blindly clinging to all he had left, he was okay with that. There was no one left to ridicule him over his choices. There was no longer anyone left to tell him, a man, a boy, dead to the world, what he was doing was wrong. What was left of his life was his to keep or destroy of his own accord. Even behind bars, schedule dictated and repetitive, he was no less free than he was as a soldier, as a knight, or as a count of Vers. What he wanted with Inaho he would try to grasp because he himself wanted it.

The fears that swam in Slaine’s belly did not die like the words so often did on his tongue. However, he had found a new fire to drive him, apathetic as it may be. In the back of his mind, he knew the fire would flicker and extinguish itself by morning, but he let it blaze while he could. He let it soothe the tense muscles in his limbs and relax his body. For once, he fell asleep fast and dreamt soundly. The creaking of the walls sung him to sleep and the warmth in his system kept away the cold, dark thoughts that so often haunted him. Instead, a pleasant emptiness filled his mind as he lay, empty stomach forgotten. He was ready to face the challenges ahead of him, just like before.

While Slaine found himself in a blank sleep, Inaho sat up in his own bed, blanketed by the darkness of the night and awoken by the unnatural light flashing from his cell phone. He unlocked the screen and quickly read the name of the sender. Business messages and calls late into the night were not rare, though usually unimportant when considering the time, but the current offender’s title came up as “Calm Craftman,” a friend rather than a business-related individual. Inaho twisted his lips into a frown, wondering why Calm found it necessary to disrupt his sleep. His eyes, heavy with sleep, drooped as he read the message. He had only fallen asleep half an hour ago, so he really didn’t appreciate the interruption. Yuki always told him he was bitter after being woken up suddenly, he supposed it was true.

C: _Inaho! U wouldnt believe th news I got! Cmon guess!_

Inaho resisted the urge to simply send Calm’s message back to him with correct grammar or ignore the message altogether and formatted his own message.

I: _It better be good enough news to wake me up over. Did a girl finally accept your confession?_

A reply was sent immediately, giving Inaho less than half a minute of peace between messages.

C: _Ouch man can ya let me have th glory of telling u smthng 4 once? Yes I got a girlfirned!! ;)_

I: _Please don’t send me ‘:)’ ever again._

C: _Thx for the overhwleming support, Inaho_

I: _Anytime. Who is this girl?_

Inaho let his eyes shut between messages. He wouldn’t say it, not wanting to rain on his friend’s parade, but he figured he did not know the girl and therefore did not need to know unless Calm was serious and wanted them to meet. In which case, Inaho would happily comply, but not when the moon was high in the sky and Inaho’s mind was weighed down with worry. 

C: _Remmber that girl frm class last year with the rlly short pigtails? Her ;)_

A girl he had seen, but never interacted with himself. Inaho stored the info away just in case.

I: _Congratulations, Calm._

C: _Youve been p busy lately. U find a pretty lady yet??_

I: _No, nor am I looking for one._

C: _How can u not look for one? Any girl wld go crazy ovr u, being as u saved th world._

I: _I’m just not interested. Besides, why would I look when I’m already with someone?_

There was a surprisingly long silence after Inaho’s last text to Calm, and he wondered if he had said something strange. A loud buzz interrupted the brief peace, a phone call coming through from none other than “Calm Craftman.” Inaho took his time answering the call, holding the phone an inch from his ear in expectation of the loud voice he would soon hear.

“Inaho!” Came the screeching voice, “ I was only joking, but you seriously got a girl?” Calm sounded overly excited, as if the news was his own.

“I specifically said I didn’t get a girlfriend, Calm.”

Another patch of quiet, though shorter than the last. “Don’t tell me, you got a boyfriend?”

“That would be correct, yes.” Inaho’s reply came quickly. It really wasn’t that hard to figure out, he thought. He wondered if Slaine saw the situation similarly. Inaho’s objective was to improve their relationship and originally intended on being just friends. He didn’t expect his feelings of wanting more than just that to get accepted so easily, to become more than that, and hoped Slaine felt the same way he did. Did he see them as boyfriends? Did he understand?

A low whistle assaulted Inaho’s ears. “Wow, man, I didn’t peg you for being into that. I guess that explains a lot, though. Not that I mind! Why didn’t you tell us?”

Assuming that “us” meant the rest of Inaho’s small friend group consisting of fellow former high school students dragged into the war, Inaho continued. “It is a recent development and I did not think it necessary to tell you.”

“Of course it’s necessary! We’re your best friends, we need to know everything. Do we know this guy? Is he hot? Does your sister know? Oh, man, I gotta tell Inko, hold on.”

The line died before Inaho could object, leaving him in the dark by himself for a good minute. He sighed, covering his face with his arm with a grumble. He knew he should’ve just ignored the text until morning. Though, he had to admit it was nice to hear from his friend again. With his activity recently centered around Slaine, he rarely went anywhere outside of his own home and Slaine’s prison. He didn’t mind at all talking about the subject of his affections as a way to bridge that gap. Another buzz alerted him to Calm calling back again.

“Okay, I’m back, you can go on.”

“Did you talk to Inko?” Inaho asked.

“I’m sending her a play by play of the conversation, so answer the questions before she yells at me.”

“Yes, you have seen him but have not met him yourselves. No, Yuki does not know. Yes, I would say he is attractive.”

Calm took a moment to relay the information to Inko before returning to the conversation. “Oh, a secret relationship! She’s not gonna be happy when she finds out you didn’t tell her. Okay, Inko wants to know where you guys met.”

Telling Yuki presented a much bigger risk. Not because of the same-sex relationship, but because of who it was with. Yuki did not think highly of Slaine and still held a considerable grudge. “Through the war.”

“Oh, was he on the Deucalion? Dang, that doesn’t help at all, that could be anyone. What’s he look like?”

Inaho did not bother to correct Calm. He was close enough without knowing where Slaine really stood in the war. “Light hair and eyes.”

“Is he a foreigner?”

“Most likely, yes.” The Martian citizens did not come from one single area of the globe, the chances of Slaine being from Japan like them were unlikely despite the lack of language barrier. He appeared to be European, visually, but Inaho would ask Slaine himself instead of guessing for Calm, now intrigued about his background.

Another whistle. “Wow, man, ain’t you lucky? You better let us meet him or else Inko’ll never let you hear the end of it! What’s his name? I don’t remember anyone like that.” 

“Neither will you, I’m sure. That’s top-secret.” It wasn’t a lie, technically. That was one major bit of information Inaho could not share with them whether he wanted to or not.

“Fine, whatever, we’ll ask him ourselves when we meet him. Inko says that better be soon.” Calm said.

“No promises. If possible, I will try.” Inaho would, if he could, present Slaine to his friends. He was happy to have gotten as far as he did with him, and making it public would be all the better. Sadly, he could not. As much as he wanted Slaine for himself, he wanted him a part of his public life as well as his private life. “Goodnight, Calm, Inko.”

“Night, man! Good luck with your love life, don’t forget condoms and lube are importa-” Inaho cut Calm off before he could finish, and set the phone down before letting his pillow consume his head. It’s not like the information was needed, anyway, and probably never would be. Still, he looked forward to their next meeting, wondering what new to bring Slaine next. He should’ve asked last time. Inaho let sleep take him once again, thoughts of Slaine and his friends filling his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! I've been swamped with work and such, but I'm still working on this bit by bit. Also, I do intend to include a jealous Inaho if I can still, but it just didn't fit quite right in this chapter. Maybe the next one, with any luck! Please enjoy and constructive criticism is appreciated~


	6. Losing What's in Your Grip

_“... disaster and not many…”_

The dreaded and much anticipated day of Inaho’s return had come much later than either of the boys had hoped. The long absence left Slaine soaking in a pool of worry. While he tried to pry information from the guards, which often ended in, “Don’t ask questions,” any that he did get did nothing to quell his fears. The same scenarios that plagued his mind before had been brought back to light. Why was Inaho not returning? Better yet, why was Slaine so concerned?

Concern left Slaine unknowingly pacing the short length of his room as he stressed. It continued to ruin what little appetite he would have. Meals, in his worried state, were left close to uneaten as days went by. He wouldn’t be surprised if his stomach had shriveled up to half the size by then.

Slaine grew uneasy at how easily Inaho had managed soften him into keeping his mind locked on him, when he thought on it. It had happened so quickly Slaine couldn’t have guessed it was coming. He had latched back on to someone of importance the first moment he saw and, frankly, his weakness disgusted him. Despite it, his feelings did not fade over the time of absence. It was not just the want of someone to rely on that pulled him to Inaho.

Slaine told himself Inaho was fine. Inaho’s visits never seemed to follow any strict pattern, not for the varying periods of time between or the durations of his stays, so there was no guarantee it meant anything. Of course, there was always the possibility that it did, but he couldn’t be sure until he asked Inaho himself when he came back. He would, Slaine decided. Inaho would come back. After all, without Inaho, Slaine had no access to the wonders and horrors of the Terran world he now craved to experience more of.

Yes, Inaho not only carried connections to the outside world, but also samples of the world’s gifts. If it were an elaborate ploy to gain Slaine’s trust, it was working.

Anxiously waiting, Slaine softly swung his pendant back and forth from his wrist like a pendulum. Drooping eyes followed its fluid swings, collecting all his focus it could. Anything to distract him from the nauseating feeling that grew in his stomach and made his appetite dwindle once again.

When Inaho did return, Slaine immediately noticed his current condition. Heavy eyes with purple-tinted skin around them and messy hair surprisingly endearing. He looked on with worry. “Welcome back.”

Inaho, in his groggy state, seemed to process the words half a second slower. He gave a small smile. “Thank you.”

Slaine choked on his tongue at the sight, immediately swallowing his next comment, and broke their eye contact. He stared at the ground as he thought of what to say. He had questions, not that they were likely to be answered. Suddenly, he felt small, insecure, and afraid to ask. “You look like shit.” A slap to the back, mentally. Good job, Slaine.

Lithe fingers that Slaine wanted to replace with his own ran across Inaho’s shoulders as he inspected himself. “I suppose I do.”

Slaine frowned. “What happened?”

Inaho shifted in his chair, propping his foot on the ground with his heel. “Nothing really. Work things.”

The short responses were, simply, annoying to Slaine as much as he expected it. He was allowed little to no information about anything beyond his cell, after all, and Inaho, to his sadness, was no exception. “You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

“You’re one to talk, Slaine.” Inaho retorted. Seeing the way Slaine scowled, he drew back. “I’m sorry. You’re right, I haven’t slept much because of the workload, but I will be fine. Were you worried?”

Slaine’s scowl only deepened. Why did he like this guy, again? “You wish, Orange.”

“I do, actually.” Inaho shrugged as if it were obvious. “I’d prefer you to care than to not. Anyway, how have you been, Slaine?”

Slaine’s scowl faltered at the name, a tiny, tiny chill running down his spine. “F-fine.”

“You look tired as well. You should try to get to sleep earlier, if possible.” Inaho advised. He stood up and strode over to the other’s chair. “You seem cold as well; You’re shivering.” He removed his jacket, leaving himself in his button-up shirt and tie, and draped it over Slaine’s shoulder and returned to his seat.

Slaine shrunk as the jacket blanketed him, in shock. Not only was the gesture unexpected, but being suddenly covered in another piece of clothing other than his thin prison clothes made him stiffen. It took him little over half a minute to relax his body and enjoy the added warmth the jacket gave. He wasn’t cold, but the little warmth was comforting and he did not want to prompt Inaho to take his jacket back. “Thanks.” He breathed.

“Of course.” Inaho said. “I will ask that a more suitable blanket be added to your room soon rather than the one you have currently. I hope you haven’t gotten any unwanted attention while I’ve been gone?”

Before he could answer, Slaine had to shake himself to keep his attention on Inaho rather than the jacket. Eyes narrowed in confusion as Slaine bore a confused look. Inaho had an odd tone to his voice with the question, almost possessive. Whatever it was, it left Slaine without a clue. “No?’

Inaho seemed to breath a sigh of relief. “Good. I was worried my extended absence would prompt a change in schedule or treatment with you.”

Slaine sat touched by the fact Inaho had kept Slaine’s well being in mind even while busy and away for so long. He felt relief himself for not being the only one of the two to worry.

“Besides, I can’t have them spending more time with you than me, right?” Inaho’s lips curved at the tips.

The dawn of a smile fell from Slaine’s face. Forget it, he was talking to Orange, after all. A genius, yes, but an idiot all the same.

Inaho continued to talk, oblivious to Slaine’s exasperation. “A friend of mine asked about you.”

Slaine scoffed. “That’s right, you have friends! I keep on forgetting.”

“Perhaps we should get your brain tested soon for memory loss?”

“Shut up, who tells their friends about people like me? Don’t answer that. Continue with your story. I was sure you weren’t allowed to let people know I was alive.”

Inaho stifled a chuckle in spite of the negative words. He liked seeing Slaine so lively, telling him to continue then cutting him off. Silly and lively, indeed. “They asked if I was seeing someone and I answered as truthfully as I could.”

“Of course you’re seeing someone! You must see at least one person every day. That is a stupid question.”

A sigh slipped past Inaho’s lips. “Not like that. I didn’t say who you were, of course, that would be bad for us both. They’d like to meet you someday, if possible. I can’t help but agree.”

Bad, huh? Slaine chewed on his lip and sunk deeper into his jacket cocoon. “Too bad that can’t happen.”

“One day, hopefully.”

“Don’t give me false hopes, Kaizuka.” Slaine snapped. He wanted to return to his bed and curl himself in the blanket that was still there waiting for him. Maybe worrying and anticipating Inaho’s return had been a mistake.

A silence filled the room as Inaho scolded himself. His topic change had only dampened both the mood of the conversation and of Slaine himself. He quickly thought of another. “I know we’re off the topic of the cold now, but how much do you know about Earth holidays?” Inaho asked.

Slaine cast Inaho a dull look. “I know of some. Passover, Christmas, Midsummer’s Day, Ascension Day, among others. I’ve only ever seen them, through traveling and readings, but I have never participated. Why?”

"Christmas passed while I was away, I'm sorry I could not have been here."

"From what I know, Christmas is a family event. You had no reason to be here."

Inaho frowned at this. "It can be celebrated with whomever. Perhaps next year you and I will be able to celebrate it?"

Slaine shifted uncomfortably. "I doubt it. Don't feel bad, it's unbecoming of you." 

"There are many things I hope we can do in the future. There is no wrong in having hope for that. I have more leeway here than you think." Inaho reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a small-typed form with his signature at the bottom amongst others.

"Being a war hero has its perks."

"Often, the cons outweigh the pros of war. You know that as I do."

Slaine felt stung, as if he was accused of not knowing the consequences of war. He wondered why he wanted Inaho's company so badly just before. "I know more than you do. Go home, Kaizuka. Go see your friends and family. Celebrate a holiday. Enjoy the sun and the Earth's blue sky! The birds and the breeze! If being a war hero has any perks, its that. The freedom you have to be happy in your life. To control it." The outburst sizzled in his throat, burned in his eyes. He stood, avoiding Inaho's eyes. "I want to return to my cell." 

Inaho stood along with Slaine, adding nothing to the arguement. "Alright. I apologize for snapping. I will see you again soon, Slaine."

"You weren't the one who snapped." Slaine muttered, feeling the tension burn in his jaw. Guards brushed past Inaho to pull Slaine out of the room. He spared a glance, but Inaho only continued to stare at Slaine's empty seat. He messed up again and lost whatever hope at happiness he'd found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I'm sorry this took forever and and a day to write/upload! I haven't abandoned this, don't worry, my life is just very busy right now. Enjoy!  
> Gosh this chapter is a mess...
> 
> Don't forget to subscribe for updates as to when this updates and to follow me on my other social media like Tumblr and Facebook under the same name~
> 
> UPDATE  
> I've rewritten the last half of this chapter. A little more serious this time, a little less cringe..


	7. Just How Far?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! It's only been, what, two years? I'm a menace.

_“Luck is a very thin wire between survival and disaster, and not many people can keep their balance on it.”_

It was uncharacteristic luck, apparently. It wasn’t surprising that his well of luck had run dry again, not that it ever flowed strongly. He’d been lucky to get on good terms with Inaho Kaizuka, considering their volatile history, and lucky to, all things considered, not be slaughtered on the spot in front of an audience after being captured at the end of the war. Many would have preferred that, himself included. Instead, he sat in a sparse cell that served as a constant, deserved reminder of his actions. Misdeeds with pure intentions that backfired on him like everything else seemed to. He was lucky to have survived the war and its aftermath, as Inaho put it once. Slaine didn’t consider himself so lucky, then or now.

The last week left Slaine alone and, as usual, unresponsive. Trapped in a never ending silence to drown in his thoughts, his regrets, and the nauseating sound of his own heartbeat. His daily meals remained mostly untouched, aside from the water that came with it. He’d suffered from hunger the majority of his life now, though worse in the more recent stage, it didn’t matter. There was no appetite to appease anyway.

Inaho had not returned since their last conversation. A week was hardly enough time to cause worry, but Slaine’s thoughts made him anxious. The meeting previous had been different that normal; something that happened. A sort of confession, in a sense, that opened a new door that led down a dark corridor Slaine was frightened, though no doubt enticed, to enter. An opportunity that felt incredibly unexpected and unimaginable yet so fitting and attainable. Love was something constantly dangling out of reach for Slaine, no matter from who. From his mother, whom he cannot remember; to his father who threw him, alone, into a world where he was disrespected and abused; to Empress Asseylum, whose affections hardly crossed into the realm of true friendship; to Saazbaum, who danced between welcoming Slaine as a son and simultaneously trying to kill Slaine’s most important person via manipulation. Every relationship Slaine had ever had was tainted in some way, so he had unconsciously grown to believe it was his fault. Why would a relationship with Inaho be any different?

Slaine wondered why he thought there was a possibility. It was a sweet notion, after all, and with Slaine having lost all connections to his Empress, who else was available to latch on to? When Inaho proposed the idea, Slaine was quick to accept. Why the very man who he fought endlessly, who kept him from reaching his goals, and who kept Asseylum away from him? Why the very man who fought to save his home, who stopped Slaine from furthering his mistakes, and who kept Asseylum safely away from the Orbital Knights? Why the only surviving Terran to fight to keep Slaine alive? The only one to waste personal time on him?

Inaho was, Slaine decided, too forgiving. Dangerously so. A relationship between the two, while beneficial in some ways, was altogether dangerous and hopeless. They both knew it. No one could know outside of themselves and nothing would ever happen about it. Relationships involved intimacy, something that past experiences made Slaine wary of. That aside, intimacy would surely be disastrous for Inaho’s career. Any of this would be. A relationship cannot survive on chess and chocolate alone.

Not that it mattered anymore. One conversation later and Slaine had shattered whatever chance he did have. It wasn’t his biggest outburst, not by a longshot, but the more Slaine thought about it, the more he was sure Inaho would retract his offer and realize it was a mistake. Inaho very well could show up, stone cold, and admit he truly hates Slaine after all. He might never show up again instead, avoiding the awkward topic and continue with his regular life. Slaine’s temper, his instability, his insecurities, had cut whatever ties he had once again.

Slaine’s feet dragged across the floor as he paced, bringing himself to his creaky, cold bed where he threw himself face first. What a screw up he was. He blew a weak breath into the blankets, smelling the dust that stirred and threatened to make him sneeze. His lungs had been feeling weaker lately, probably a side effect of not eating or sleeping, so he dreaded having to sneeze. He grumbled into the bed that it didn’t matter, he deserved it.

Still, Inaho was forgiving. He forgave Slaine for shooting him in the face, in cold blood and at point blank. He seemingly held no grudge for the war at all. But, alas, that was during the war. Enemies fight enemies in a war, that’s just how it goes. The war was over now, what excuse did Slaine have? He convinced himself, like he’d done countlessly in a week’s time after every inner interrogation he gave himself, that Inaho had no reason to return. He never did before, even less so now, and it scared Slaine. He would be alone again.

Love was, yet again, something just outside of Slaine’s reach.

Miles upon miles away, Inaho had barricaded himself in his own thoughts as well. He let his head hang backwards off the back of his chair, eyes scanning the ceiling for irregularities. So far, in twenty minutes, he’d found thirty-six. Nothing disastrous, almost invisible to the naked eye, just irregularities. Something to pass the time, ultimately.

A week ago, upon arriving exiting the prison grounds and turning his phone back on, Inaho was immediately bombarded with messages. Calm, in particular, being the worst culprit of them all with a few scattered messages from Yuki and Inko and one from Nina. Yuki’s was expected, just a simple, “Waiting outside, take your time” and “be safe.” He skimmed it as he approached the waiting car with her inside. She’d insisted on driving him to and from since learning it was Slaine Troyard he was visiting so often, not a “friend” like he originally had told her. Her worries couldn’t let her stay at home, so she drove and waited patiently, gradually getting less nervous each trip.

“How’d it go, Nao?” Yuki asked, turning the ignition on and beginning to drive away.

“Fine.”

Yuki frowned. “Did something happen? I thought the last trip went well.”

Inaho tapped his phone screen, opening Nina’s message first. It read, “Calm told me you like someone! Congratulations, I hope we get to meet them soon!” Of course Calm told Nina. Who else had he told? Rayet? Inko already knew. Who else? He glanced at Yuki, whose eyes were trained to the road ahead of them. Did she know?

“I could have made you something to bring again, if you think it helps.” Yuki offered. Again. She’d offered multiple times now. Not being an efficient cook, Inaho was sure she appreciated having someone to make treats for that wasn’t the overly blunt Inaho.

“Next time, perhaps. Yuki, have you gotten any messages from Calm lately?”

“Not since he told had to text me to remind you you were meeting him later that day. You should go out with your friends more. It has to be more fun than _this_.”

“This” had an extra emphasis on it that Inaho had heard before. No matter how many times he insisted he did this because he wanted to, no one believed him. “I will.” He went back to open Inko’s messages. The first two had been unread long enough for the notification to disappear, sent when he had first hinted to Calm about Slaine. He’d forgotten to answer and left it untouched. Opening it, it read, “IS CALM SERIOuS???!” Inaho winced at the excessive punctuation. The second, “i cant believe it inaho why didnt you tell us,” with a lack of punctuation this time.

Yuki nudged him with her arm. “You look sour.”

“I neglected to tell Inko something a few weeks ago. It seems she feels hurt.” Inaho admitted as he scrolled through all of Calm’s messages next, which consisted of nosy questions regarding his “sexy and secret relationship” and unwelcome advice about being in a same sex relationship. Inaho questioned why Calm knew any of this information.

“Well, of course she would, she’s your friend. It hurts when friends keep secrets and they find out on their own. Secrets are never good.” Ah, yes, another unconscious jab at Slaine. A secret to the world now.

Inaho deleted the majority of the messages Calm had sent. He’d kept one with a link labeled, “Starting a relationship for the first time.” It could be helpful, if today’s meeting was anything to go by. “Some things cannot help but stay secret, no matter how badly you want it to not.”

“Don’t get cryptic on me, Nao!” Yuki gave Inaho another shove, playfully. “Just try to be more open to your friends, okay? And I want to see you get out more often! Go see a movie or get a girlfriend or get into trouble like every other teenager for once.”

“I’m not a teenager anymore, Yuki, and last I checked trouble was a bad thing.”

“Smartass.”

“On a serious note, Yuki,” Inaho began idly. “How do you begin a relationship?”

A slip of the hand against the steering wheel led to a sharp, loud honk of the car’s horn and a quick slam on the breaks. Thankfully, they were still on the hidden dirt road and not yet on the streets. “What?” Yuki shouted, eyes wide and arms rigid. “Nao, are you..?”

Inaho didn’t bother looking in her direction. “No, before you ask, I don’t have a girlfriend.” That wasn’t a lie, technically. Arms enveloped him in a tight, uncomfortable hug as Yuki pulled against her seat belt to reach him. Her hair fell over his eyes, effectively blinding him while he was slowly constricted.

“Oh, Nao, you have a crush, don’t you? So sweet! Is she cute? Do I know her? Ah, I can make cookies for her, too! Is that what you didn’t tell Inko?” Yuki was positively euphoric for him.

Inaho pushed her away and gave her a small smile, pity building in his stomach. She wouldn’t be this happy if she found out who it was. Having a boyfriend was a conversation in its own right, but a war criminal was a whole other issue. “Relax, Yuki. You have met them, technically, but only once, years ago.” When he shot me, Inaho thought to himself. “Very cute, but with a short temper.”

Yuki kissed Inaho’s head and went back to her seat. “Ah, so you’ve known her for a while. Was she in the war?”

“Yes, on the forefront.”

A look of pity formed on Yuki’s face. “So many young people were. I’m glad she’s safe now. I’d love to meet her, Nao. Do you need help confessing? You can’t do it over text, you know!” She drove again, finding her way on an actual paved road. “You can get flowers, or ask her over a romantic dinner. Valentine’s is coming up, you could ask her then! Ah, how romantic!”

“Nevermind, I can handle it.” Inaho’s voice cut in before Yuki could continue. His thumb hovered over the link Calm had sent instead. The internet didn’t ask questions like Yuki did.

A half hour later saw them pulling into their parking space, ready to be home after a long day. Inaho would make a quick dinner for the both of them, dodging an endless stream of questions from his sister as he struggled to keep his focus on her and the food and not the link waiting to be opened. He had to be patient or else his nosy sister might pry further. Afterward, when Yuki offered to clean up, Inaho shut himself in his quiet room. He sat in his desk chair and searched the same link on his tablet, secured with a stand and a keyboard.

“How to Begin a Relationship, the Do’s and Dont’s of Love.” Inaho read aloud. He quickly scrolled through the contents of the page, absorbing as much information as he could to arm himself for his next predicted visit. He had assumed he went about conversing with Slaine all wrong now that they were in a relationship and was fully prepared to fix his mistake. 

“DON’T move too fast when you’re in a new relationship. DO know their boundaries. DON’T use texting to discuss your relationship,” Inaho read. “Hm, seems straightforward.” Another buzz from his phone tore him away from one screen to the other. Another message from Calm:

“10 Gay Sex Questions You’ve Had but Are Too Afraid to Ask.”

Inaho closed his phone immediately. That was a big jump from his current article. Something for a much later date, if ever, but not today. First, Inaho had to make sure Slaine still trusted him and was ready to advance with him. Slowly, there was no need to rush. Slaine was his first priority.

And yet, weeks later, Inaho was still thinking. He had done nothing but think, practically, about Slaine. How he was doing, whether or not he was eating, whether he was blaming himself for anything as he often did, whether or not he, too, was thinking. Was Slaine thinking of Inaho, too? Did Slaine have any regrets about them already? Was he okay?

Slaine had been all that was on Inaho’s mind. Yuki came through with her demands and forced Inaho to make plans with Calm and Inko. For what, Inaho didn’t remember, but he had to leave within the hour. He wanted to get somewhere in his research first. Not getting anywhere with relationship articles, he returned to his previous searches on Slaine’s mental health. Anything Slaine-related. 

A knock on his door, forced a groan from his lips. “Nao, Calm is here! Hurry up!” Yuki gave the door another good knock before leaving Inaho to emerge himself.

Inaho pulled himself into a standing position. He’d stayed up all night scouring the Internet for more information, but every article told him the same, basic things that, honestly, were hard to apply to their situation. While showing up unexpectedly to one’s window with a bouquet and sneaking in in the night was considered daring and romantic, Slaine’s cell didn’t have a proper window, Inaho was unaware of any potential allergies he had, and sneaking into a military prison was less daring and romantic as it was more so illegal and embarrassing. 

At the door, waiting for him, was Calm standing beside Yuki, talking animatedly about something or other. Calm smiled brightly at Inaho when he spotted him. “Hey, buddy! Ready to go? Inko’s probably waiting for us.”

Inaho slipped on his shoes and left, throwing a quick goodbye to Yuki and leaving Calm to catch up. The sooner they left, the sooner he got back to his research.


End file.
